Daydream
by thethingthathasnoname
Summary: Andrew Campbell can't stop fantasizing about Spencer Hastings.


**Daydream **

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was so, so wrong. But Andrew Campbell simply could not stop thinking about Spencer Hastings. They had been friends for forever - their families used to have dinner parties together, for God's sakes - but recently every single time he saw her it was like a whole new wave hit him. Whether it was passing her in the corridor when she was laughing and her smile was beaming across her face. Whether it was catching her eye across a crowded room and feeling a connection just for a split second. Whether it was walking behind her up a staircase when she was wearing one of those short, pleated skirts and getting the perfect view of those long, tanned legs, watching the fabric brush just beneath her…

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Shit! Andrew mentally swore. What time was it? What was going on? Wearily he dragged his head up from the pile of books it had been resting on at the kitchen table. Urgh. So much work. So much effort. Wait… was that someone at the door? He should probably go check… but that would mean moving and moving was… effort.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Ok, ok, he was going. Clumsily, he staggered his way to the front door. He swung it open… and had to do a double take, because there, standing on his doorstep, was none other than Spencer Hastings herself. Talk about speak of the devil… Well, more like think of the angel but…

He should probably say something round about now. Probably. She was staring at him weirdly.

"Er, hi Spencer." He said, blinking away the drowsiness from his eyes before they swept, quite against his will, over her whole body, scanning her mentally. He clocked the tight-fitting shirt, the short skirt, the long, long legs, the heels. (He couldn't help but notice that, even with the heels, she was still shorter than him.) And those legs. A shiver ran down his spine and he had to force his gaze back up before his body betrayed him.

"Hi, Andrew. I hope I'm not interrupting you or anything." Spencer smiled gently and Andrew could have sworn his heart stopped, just for a second.

"No, not at all. Was there something you wanted?..." Andrew trailed off, not wanting to sound rude, but not wanting to sound too pleased.

She shrugged. Looked down, bashfully. Glanced back up from under her eyelashes. "Company?" Maybe Andrew was reading far too much into this – call it wishful thinking – but he could have sworn there was a glint in her eye, a tone in her voice, something that suggested… something more. Something that Andrew couldn't even dare dream of.

He gulped. Then coughed. "Of course, come in." Stepping back to let her pass, he used this opportunity, despite all physical effort to resist, to catch a good, long glimpse of her beautiful behind emphasised by the tiny, flippant skirt, then followed the expanse of tanned skin, all the way down her legs.

Shaking his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind, he shut the door and followed her into his own house. Spencer Hastings had a way of taking over and taking charge without either obvious intent or consent. At least, she had a way of doing that to Andrew.

"Wow…" he heard her breath as she caught sight of the piles of books splaying across the kitchen table. "Someone's been busy."

"It's not what you think, I promise. I use them more for pillows than anything else." Andrew joked and cleared a space. "You're just in time for tonight's homemade special of Chicken Tikka ready-meal."

"Mmmm, my favourite." Spencer grinned, perching herself up on the table. She watched him intently – without so much as faking a blush when he caught her staring – while he shoved the plastic container in the microwave.

He set the timer and straightened up, turning around… only to find Spencer fanning herself with one of his books. And that would have been fine…. But the occasional flushes of air lifted her hair and brushed it back off her face, making her seem even more angelically beautiful than usual. This time it was her to catch him staring, and he did blush and look away, but not before he saw her raise one meticulously perfect eyebrow teasingly.

It was like she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

"It's hot in here, isn't it?" her voice was breathy and laden with meaning.

"Actually, I'm ok…" Andrew stuttered, although he was starting to get a bit hot under the collar. "But I could open a…"

He trailed off as she lifted her hand and slowly unbuttoned the top button of her blouse, holding eye contact the whole time. Then she popped the next one. One more and it would reveal a lot more than her cleavage. Andrew simply couldn't look away. She toyed with the button.

Andrew took a tentative step forward.

"Spencer, I…" he began, but she silenced him.

"Shh…" she whispered. Her fingers still played with the fabric of her shirt.

He took another step. "I don't understand…" he attempted, but she lifted a delicate finger to her lips. He found his eyes fixating on it.

Without even knowing, he took another step so he was within touching distance.

Like he was in a trance, he watched her. He watched her as she parted her lips, still with the finger held up to them, and licked them with a flit of her tongue. He watched as she crossed her legs and drew them up onto the table. He watched as she reached out a hand, firmly grasped his tie and pulled him closer.

"Spencer…" he breathed.

"Yes?" she returned, eyes wide, feigning innocence.

He just blushed, because he didn't know what to say.

"I'm not poisonous, you know…" she murmured.

"What?" Andrew returned unevenly; brain too melted to think straight.

"You can…" Spencer paused, leant closer, and practically purred. "Touch me."

Her breath ghosted across his skin, leaving goose-bumps in its wake.

She leant even closer, speaking straight into his ear, lips mere centimetres from his flesh. "I don't bite… Well…" She paused, then moved her lips down a little so they were now fluttering over his neck. "Maybe a little." Her tongue flicked out and licked.

Against all willpower, Andrew let out the smallest of groans. He felt her smile in victory, so to retaliate, he reached his hand forwards, resting it on her leg.

"That's more like it." She muttered mischievously.

Andrew was gradually getting some sense back into his mind. Well, enough to know that he wasn't going to let Spencer Hastings seduce him and reduce him to nothing more than a quivering mess. I mean… she pretty much already had, but he was going to come back fighting.

Silently, he ran his hand up her thigh.

The slight intake of breath that could possibly pass for a gasp from Spencer was enough to send jitters through his whole being. But he could not let her win.

His other hand snaked around her waist.

She slid dancing fingers up his arm.

He cupped her butt.

She stroked his chest.

He pulled her closer.

She wrapped her legs around his waist.

He leant in.

She leant in.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

He sighed and pulled away, face flushing and body yearning, but the microwave had other intentions that were most certainly not related to his own. Reluctantly, he dragged himself across the kitchen and busied himself with preparing this processed, plasticized garbage that vaguely resembled food. He kept his head down, unable to look at her. He turned around, putting his back safely between him and her as he spooned it out. He took several deep breaths, trying to clear his head. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work very well.

And then he felt two hands winding around his waist; a body pressing against his back.

"I don't understand, Spencer. What changed?" Andrew asked while he still had some hope of logical thought.

There was a pause. Then her lusty voice released "I realised I didn't want the carpenter anymore. I wanted you."

And that was it for Andrew. He couldn't resist anymore.

He spun himself around, coming face to face with Spencer. And then he grabbed her waist and pushed her, not exactly gently, against the counter behind. She gasped, eyes wide. He grinned. Victory.

And then he pressed his lips against hers and wrapped his big arms around her tiny waist. She responded with just as much enthusiasm, hands twisting around his neck, fingers tangling into his hair. He lifted her up, setting her on the counter. His hands found her thighs; gripped them, stroked them. The slightest of squeaks escaped her mouth. His smile widened. Hands moved to her butt, squeezing, and tugging her in closer. Legs wrapped around his waist. Bodies rubbed together. Her noises setting him on fire. Teasing her, he ran his fingers all over her body as if to say, I can do this and there's nothing you can do to stop me. A moan slipped past her lips and she flushed; he smirked. So in retaliation, she ripped off his shirt, and pressed her lips to the expanse of skin across the toned, defined chest. His head dropped back, eyes rolled. Her teeth brushed against his neck. He gasped. She giggled. She bit down, just a little bit. Just enough to make him lose any control.

"Spencer…" he panted with every bite. "Spencer… Spencer… Spencer…"

He tugged at her top, pulling it off, admiring the beauty displayed before him. And then he returned the favour, caressing her neck with tiny kisses, and licks, and bites. She let out little whimpers. He grabbed at her waist and her butt. She gasped. He bit at her lower lip. She moaned. He started planting kisses all the way down her jaw and neck and chest. She groaned.

"Andrew…" she breathed. "Andrew… Andrew… Andrew…"

Such euphoria. It was almost like he was floating.

"Andrew…"

Floating far away, growing distant from his own body, from his own actions and feelings.

"Andrew?"

Almost like he was dreaming…

"Andrew?!"

Almost like he was… waking up?

"ANDREW?!"

His head shot up, eyes flying open and blinking in the bright sunlight. Who? What? Where? When? Why?

School… he was at school… he had fallen asleep and it had all just been a dream.

"Hello? Andrew?" Came the voice again.

Wait… what? His eyes gradually focused on the strange shape before them. It slowly took form as none other than Spencer Hastings herself peering down at him.

He cleared his groggy throat and attempted to smile at her.

"Mr Campbell… care to tell me what's going on?" Oh shit, he was actually in a lesson. He must have been more tired than he thought.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Grayson. It won't happen again." He blushed, apologetically.

"Stay behind at the end for 5 minutes." His maths teacher instructed. He nodded, looking down.

"Yes, miss."

He sighed. Ah well, that could have been a lot worse. But then he looked to the side again.

Spencer was still staring at him.

"Andrew…" she whispered, and Andrew couldn't help but think of the dream. "Why were you saying my name?"

Andrew blushed bright red. He hung his head, staring down at his lap. And that was when he noticed the unmistakable tenting of his trousers.

Well, shit.


End file.
